Off the Shelf: Death as a Side Effect by Ana María Shua
Read the beginning of Chapter 2 from Death as a Side Effect by Ana María Shua, Translated by Andrea G. Labinger:
"The telephone woke me like a scream. It was my father. It was nighttime. I called a taxi. There are several dangerous blocks between his house and mine, but in an armored car, I felt safe. Taxis are little fortresses on wheels, one of the few trustworthy institutions we’ve got left.
Until a few years ago, you could still walk in the city. When we started seeing each other, I allowed myself to dream that one day we would walk along the street together, that one day you wouldn’t mind being seen in public with me. I even imagined holding your hand on some solitary stroll, caressing your short, delicate fingers, the sensitive oval of your fingernails. You didn’t like your hands; you thought they were too small: you used to spread out your fi ngers, displaying them for me, comparing them with the size of your palms, criticizing their shortness. You didn’t like them, but to me, your childlike hands on my chest were so beautiful—deceitful, touching, and perfect: yours.
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